Broots
was still at his desk when Miss Parker and Sydney made their way down. Parker
was beginning to wonder if he ever did anything except stare at the computer
screen and raid the vending machines. Still, she was glad at this moment
not to have to go searching for him. Timing would be crucial if they wanted
to stay above suspicion.

"Broots," she said without preamble, "I want you to order
a car and have it ready to go in exactly five minutes."

He looked up at her, and blinked. "Are we going somewhere?"

"Sydney and I are. We're following a lead on Jarod, and we're leaving
right now. Understand? Right now. Check the time, and remember
what I said. If anyone asks about us, tell them what I've just told you."

He looked back and forth from one to the other. "Something's going
on here, isn't it?"

"Not at all," Sydney assured him smoothly. "We're just
following Centre rules and letting you know where we'll be in case we're
needed."

"In case you need an alibi, you mean," he mumbled.

Parker gave him a predatory smile. "I'm glad we understand each
other." She paused a moment, while the tech stared at her. "This
century, Broots, if you can manage it."

"What? Oh, yeah. Sorry." He picked up the phone, speaking as
he dialed. "I, uh, hope your lead pans out -- whatever it is."

Sydney gave him a weak smile as they left the room. "Thank you,
Broots. So do we."

* * * * * * * * *

Shutting the door to Broots' office, Parker pulled Sydney over to the
side of the hallway. "I'm going to give you a location, about a half-mile
away. I want you to take the car, drive to that spot, and wait. Faith
and I will be there just as soon as we can."

He frowned. "How are you going to get Faith out of the Centre? You
can't just walk out the front door."

The way Angelo gets around, I guess he'd know...

She gave him a knowing look. "The same way all the nutcases escape
this hellhole."

* * * * * * * * *

Renewal Wing

Willie eased quietly into the all-white room at the end of the hallway,
and shut the door. He crept up to the man in the wheelchair and squatted
down beside it. "Mr. Raines, we may have a problem," he began.
"Miss Parker hasn't given up on Eclipse. And I now have reason to
believe that Looking Glass may have been compromised. I know she was on
SL-12 today. What are your instructions?"

Raines continued sitting in the chair, unresponsive. For a moment, it
seemed as though he would remain silent. Then he lifted his head and murmured,
"You know what to do."

Willie nodded. "Yes, sir." He stood, and turned to walk away.
Raines' head returned to its former position, but a tiny smile played
around his lips for several moments before fading away.

Outside Renewal, Willie checked his gun, making sure it was fully loaded
before he headed for the elevator and SL-12. He had a job now, and it
would be done with the efficiency Mr. Raines always demanded.

His master deserved no less.

* * * * * * * * *

Jarod stood next to the window, watching the gentle snowfall. He tried
to keep his mind clear as best he could -- occupy it with busy work, computations
that would obstruct errant memories from coming into view -- but it was
no use. When they came, there was no stopping them.

His stomach roiled, clenched, felt like it was dropping into his shoes.
He doubled over, trying to make it to the bed, and missed. He lost his
footing and crashed against the nightstand, striking his forehead on the
corner of the wooden stand. The pain staved off the memory, allowing him
to lift one hand to the cut and trace it with his fingertips. It wasn't
bad.

Then he looked at his fingers, and the sight of blood threw him full-blown
into the memory he had been fighting to escape.

She screamed so sweetly, her eyes so large and bright, almost all pupil.
Natalie was her name. He had seen her before, helping out with clean-up
in the sim lab. She was a high school student or something like that.
He liked them young, while they were in their prime.

She struggled underneath him, and it excited him. He teased her with
the blade, letting her get away just once, so he could knock her down.
There were people watching this time, in the darkness outside the windowed
room where they had given her to him.

"You can do anything you want with her," they told him. "No
one will care. In fact, we'll enjoy it with you."

That had turned him on. He'd never had an audience before -- at least,
not an audience that survived. But these people recognized that he was
an artist. They respected his work and wanted to study how he did it.
Of course, there were things he wouldn't do in front of them, because
they were too intimate, something to be shared only between him and his
lady.

She smelled so good, like baby powder, innocent and fresh. Just for an
instant, he thought about testing that innocence, but not with people
watching. Suddenly, that made him angry. He wanted them to go away, so
he could enjoy her all to himself, but they wouldn't. They were always
there, always watching him.

Who am I?

He let her go, and sat up, knife pressed between his palm and the floor.
He held his head with his free hand, and lifted his gaze to the windows
surrounding him. They were dark, no shapes visible outside them, but he
knew they were there. They were always watching him, always.

But if they were always watching him, how could he do the things he remembered
happening in solitude? It didn't make sense. He couldn't --

Natalie screamed, and beat on the panel that had once opened to admit
her tormentor. "Let me out, please! He's going to kill me!"

He rose from the floor, blade in hand, and stalked toward her, reminded
now of his purpose. "That's just what they want to see," he
growled. "Let's give 'em a good show, shall we?"

He slammed her down on the floor, ripped open her blouse and straddled
her. With his left hand he pinned her shoulder, and with his right he
began to trace random patterns with the tip of his blade over her face,
her neck, her chest…

Jarod cried out in pain and denial. Freed from his paralysis, he tried
again to reach the bed, and managed this time to grab the bedspread and
haul himself onto the mattress. Once there, he lay on his side and curled
into the fetal position, as if it would somehow protect himself from further
onslaughts.

He couldn't take this much longer. The brilliant mind he prided himself
on was slipping away, inch by inch, and when it was gone the rest of him
would follow.

"Help me," he whispered. "Someone, please help me."

* * * * * * * *

Angelo had an uncanny way of being exactly where he was needed when someone
wanted him -- unless of course it was something he didn't want to do.
Parker was in her office, wondering how best to locate him, when he appeared
at the grate covering her air duct. He grabbed her attention by tossing
a candy-coated kernel of Cracker Jack onto the floor in front of her.

"Angelo! I need your help."

"Free Looking Glass," he shot back, apparently expecting her
request.

"That's right," she agreed. "Can you help me get her out
of the Centre?"

His head bobbed. "Go now?"

"Yes, now. Meet me on SL-12, okay?"

An instant later, he was gone. She checked her pistol, made sure she
had a full clip, and headed for the stairwell. It was important to avoid
anyone who might be passing by; if she were seen now, it would completely
blow the timeline she had created for Broots.

When she reached SL-12, she made a beeline for Faith's room, still passing
no one in the corridor. Punching in the key code, she opened up the door
and greeted her childhood friend. Faith appeared ready to leave, almost
as if she had known Parker was coming.

"This way," Parker said softly, heading further down the corridor
to the nearest air duct. Angelo was waiting, and held the grate open for
them. He caught Miss Parker by the wrist and pulled her up, despite her
whispered protest to take Faith first. In the interest of time, she cut
off her argument and crawled in, turned around and reached out to help
Faith into the duct.

"Hey!" called a voice. Appearing around a corner, a sweeper
spotted Faith and pointed his gun at her. "Where do you think you're
going?"

Parker held her breath. She couldn't reach her gun easily, bent over
as she was in the narrow tunnel. Carefully, she stretched her body out
to gain access to her weapon. Protecting Faith was a priority, but she
didn't take her eyes off the sweeper.

"Leave me alone," Faith said softly, turning toward the man.

Parker's gaze shifted to the blonde's face, which was suddenly a blank
mask, except for the intensity in her blue eyes.

"I… ack!" the sweeper gagged. He dropped his pistol
and fell to his knees, clutching his gun hand to his chest, his face twisted
with agony. He writhed on the floor briefly before passing out.

Faith turned back to the grate, reaching for Parker's and Angelo's hands.
They hoisted her up and inside, and started on their way with Angelo in
the lead. Parker flattened herself along the tunnel to let Faith into
the middle position.

Parker contemplated that enigmatic statement, but shrugged it off. There
were more important things to consider at the moment. She wasn't pleased
about wearing out the knees on her best silk pants, but getting Faith
out took precedence over her wardrobe disasters. At least she wouldn't
have to borrow clothes from Broots.

It seemed as though they crawled through tunnels, ducts and pipes forever,
and when they emerged into the fresh, cold outdoors, Parker bit back the
unkind comment that leapt so easily to her lips and offered Angelo her
thanks instead. She stood in a patch of melting snow as he slid back into
the tunnel they had just left.

Angelo hesitated, his eyes on Faith. She stepped up to him with her palm
extended. He placed his against hers for a moment, then laced their fingers
together. "Help Jarod."

"I will." She laid her free hand against the side of her head.
"Stay safe."

His face grew sad. He squeezed her hand tightly, then let her go and
disappeared back the way he had come, back into the bowels of the Centre.

"I won't ask what that was about," Parker mused.

Faith nodded. "We must leave now, if we're to reach Jarod. He doesn't
have much time."

"What's happening to him, Faith?"

She swallowed hard, looking directly into Miss Parker's eyes. "Unless
we can stop it," she replied thickly, "the destruction of his
soul."

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